


It's Dark Inside

by norcumi



Series: Demons [1]
Category: Spellstorm (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Fix-It, Fluff, GFY, Gen, Post Game, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:31:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1354111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world's been saved. The Dawn's broken. </p><p>When the fighting's over, there's a chance to breathe, and the weight of what has happened finally hits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Dark Inside

**Author's Note:**

> I greatly enjoyed the Duel for Lythia event. But there was just enough hand waving about What Happened that I had to figure out some head canon. This rather obviously takes place between the epilogue and the 3 months later... um… other epilogue. 
> 
> Since the event areas are unavailable in game now, the wiki has handy dandy transcripts! [Part 1](http://spellstorm.wikia.com/wiki/Duel_for_Lythia_part_1_transcript) and [part 2 ](http://spellstorm.wikia.com/wiki/Duel_for_Lythia_part_2_transcript).
> 
> Also, thanks be to Zeron from the forums who helped me with some detail work.

He wasn't surprised that as soon as they got back to the Citadel – facilitated by one of these Conclave Mages who seemed to have a fondness for flying clouds – Ava and the Mage were sent off to their chambers. 

He watched the Mage the same way he always did, projecting his senses from his core at the book, centering himself there and letting his vision come from where his eyes would be – had been – as Virbane. He had chosen that form, crafted it based upon those fascinating playthings called humans, only larger, stronger, _more_ , because what better form to encourage havoc than one of their own, but greater?

He was being avoidant, and he really didn't much care. It was in the stilted, careful way the Mage moved, like an elder or ancient. It was the way he couldn't feel much in the way of magic from her, the way her eyes were only a slight luminescent blue rather than the normal azure fire.

It was the way she almost looked like a normal human. 

He hated that he was terrified.

Somehow in the chaos of the new, post-Spellstorm world, no one had realized that the Dawnbreaker didn't _have_ a suite within the Citadel, but merely an apprentice's room, small and tucked away near Ridley's old quarters. The Mage shambled in, carefully shutting and barring the door behind her before setting the candle that had lit their way down onto a small table.

Apprentice quarters were inevitably small, big enough for a narrow bed, a trunk, a chair and a fold down writing surface which apparently the Mage left down and covered in papers. She didn't have a trunk, which left enough room for about three adults to jostle in, if the door had swung outwards and they didn't mind being rather friendly. 

Hardly the place for the Dawnbreaker, but he wasn't about to say so. If nothing else, she was bound to get some extra rest when their presence was inevitably required at some unholy hour and no one could figure out where they were.

"Grim." The Mage sounded hoarse and even more exhausted than she looked – but since her face was coldly stern and harsher than normal, that wasn't saying much. "Manifest."

"Don't be ridiculous, there's hardly enough room and you need-"

"Manifest. _Now._ "

Stormsblood, but the gritted teeth and guttural growl had him obeying. It wasn't as if the Mage actually could command him, but - 

So many things were different now. 

He gathered up the Ethereal aspects of his essence and moved his awareness a short pace to the Mage's right, appearing to shimmer into being as a large human whose head nearly brushed the ceiling. There really wasn't more than just room enough for the both of them, but that was plenty for the Mage to execute a small half spin as if summoning up magical energy, and then land a neat right hook into his midriff. He doubled over with an audible "woof," gaping as the Mage gave him a shove right back onto the bed. 

"You _idiot_!" The followup punch to the shoulder had far less force, and he couldn't swear if she sat down or collapsed next to him. "Don't ever do something that _stupid_ again."

"Diplomatic as ever, I see." He didn't mean to mock, but it wasn't as if he could actually say what he thought. 

The noise she made might have been a snort of laughter or a stifled snarl. "What _happened_? Emila was playing coy for once, and – you – Stormsblood, you didn't have anything to _say!_ " She swung a weak punch at him again, but she would have missed if he hadn't leaned just a little to the left – nothing conspicuous under normal circumstances, and it certainly wasn't as if she was in any condition to notice now.

Just because Virbane was the demon prince of mind games did not mean he always _had_ to use his powers for evil.

"Tell me what you witnessed," he quietly ordered instead, cautiously putting a hand on her shoulder. "I was a little busy trying to make Glimpy's life as short and painful as possible, and then - "

She shuddered. The Mage, his Mage, the Dawnbreaker herself, shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. Tentatively, Virbane moved his hand further, stretching out to wrap his arm around her. He wasn't sure he wanted to consider how poorly she was doing that instead of shrugging him off, she collapsed against his side.

He didn't think humans were supposed to be quite so cold.

The Mage took a deep breath. "He was – he had a book. You were reaching for him, and he held it up, between you and him. When you touched it, you... you disappeared. I saw you being pulled into it. Then -" Her eyes closed, a pained expression crossing her face. "He had a dagger. Old, curved, with a jagged blade. He said – that it... eats ethereal magic. He stabbed the book. There was a flash of bright light, ethereal green, but scattered everywhere. He said you were as dead as Swooty." She finally opened her eyes to look at him.

 _How does that much pain show? And why... why that much over me?_ He did not want to consider that too closely. 

"And you stopped talking. You didn't. Say. Anything. Nameless, you have never shut up. You didn't even – I was hoping you were hiding, faking your death, but you didn't even say anything when Glimpy died."

"You're quite certain he's dead?" His whole body itched at the possibility that the hutchen might return, cause more havoc. He tried to have a joking tone, but somehow, through some oddity of architecture that was clearly echoes in the room, his voice came out sounding anxiously high.

"I checked thrice, and Eron checked another time, and when Ava disappeared on our way out she said she was checking again. With her sword."

Virbane's snort was clearly a laugh. "Good! I hope you were as swift and efficient as usual in your mayhem?"

The Mage looked away, leaning closer to him. She had warmed somewhat, enough that the strange little shivers – perhaps exhaustion? - did not seem to be plaguing her anymore. "Donnell built him a machine. Quite the monstrosity. My creatures and I destroyed it. He fell out, protesting defeat yet again, and then it collapsed on him. Crushed under his own golem."

"HA!" He was a demon prince. He could laugh manically, and woe to those who would judge him.

And he _owed_ it to that wretched little imp spawn.

"I thought you would like that."Her voice was a touch smug, but there was a strange sadness, discomfort in her voice. "Now it's your turn. _What happened?!_ "

He'd never been to her room before, but the walls truly did seem to echo strangely. It had sounded as if her voice had cracked on the question. He took a moment to settle himself, inhaling deeply and letting the breath out slowly. "He obviously had a book with a soul trap. A temporary prison, usually incorporated in Surge Phials - power sources that enhance the abilities of a summoned creature - which are used to catch souls around the time of death." No, he had not imagined her flinching against him. "Being that I'm not very corporeal much of the time, it worked on me... somewhat."

And now she was incredibly, unbelievably still. "Somewhat."

"He came prepared, but that is to our advantage. I told you, in Braen, that I am not... _entirely_ Ethereal anymore. He was expecting Virbane, demon prince, brother of Ulfrane and Torbane. Not... Grim." He had to stop, feeling strangely breathless. _I am, aren't I? No longer Virbane, tainted with compassion, but... something else._ He had no idea how he felt about that. He took another steadying breath. "And by the sound of it, he had a Kukuri. Nasty blades, often used in ancient rituals to disperse, not eat, magic of different types. So what happened?" He tried to shrug casually. "His nasty little book caught my Ethereal essence, and then the Kukuri sliced into that, dispersing most of it – but that scattering was centered around his book. Think of it as if he had staked that cloud of magic into his book."

She was shaking. Strong hands were clenching tight on her legs. And she would not look at him. "Stormsblood, how can you talk about that so calmly?" Her jaw was clenched so tight, face so thin with exhaustion, she looked like the dead.

He had no idea why his arm tightened a little around her shoulders. "I was busy at the time," he declared as dryly as possible. "You need to understand, Laida's curse provided me a road, so to speak, to manifest outside of the book. But without the curse itself, I can manifest... _parts_ of me. To save myself a great deal of pain and irritation, I leave as many Primal and Abyssal elements within my pages as I can." Her hands were slowly, so slowly starting to unclench, blood gradually returning to white knuckles. "Glimpy was incredibly stupid – what he did might, I repeat _might_ have been sufficient to destroy me, say, several decades ago, but now?" Virbane snorted with disdain. Another cautious look at the Mage who was still glaring down at her hands, and he decided to turn it into quite the magnificent sneer. "In effect, he knocked me out. Pathetic. Just the sort of greatness I've come to expect of Glimpy." Good, that had coaxed a smile out of her! "It _was_ inconvenient, but not painful. I had only minor glimpses of what was going on when he caught me. Without the Kukuri, given a few minutes more, and I would have rampaged out of there and made his life several different levels of the Abyss."

Her smile was small, but much more bloodthirsty than usual. It quite suited her, actually. 

"As for Emila, she united the dispersed parts of me with the grounded parts within my usual form, thus it was easy to home in on that, and so here I am!" He spread his arms wide, as if he were some snake oil salesman showing off his wares. The Mage just looked at him for a moment before she snorted a laugh and leaned back up against him. This time, his arm found its way around her shoulders quite naturally. They sat there for awhile, and the Mage's breathing deepened until she let out a small snort. 

"I'm falling asleep like this. That won't be comfortable for either of us."

Smiles – sincere smiles, with genuine warmth and only a trace of sardonic amusement – did not come easily to him, before or during his time with Laida. Yet somehow he found the expression on his face. "Then stand up so I can get out of your way – you can collapse onto the pillow instead of me."

"Hah. I should." Yet she did not, and after a while she was letting out the occasional faint snore. After one too many of those came abruptly, harshly enough to wake her, she shook her head and stood.

Nameless, but she swayed like a tree in high wind – and even more disturbing, did not even seem to realize he quickly stood as well, and was keeping her from tumbling back onto the writing surface with a hand to her shoulder. She looked blearily up at him, and her smile was a faint, awkward thing. _Gods take it, having a heart to wring is an incredible inconvenience._

Then she stunned him yet again as the human stumbled forward and awkwardly wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Tentatively, knowing he was treading into deep and strange waters, Virbane reached out and gently hugged back.

They stood there long enough for him to feel unbelievably awkward – although that wasn't too long, all told – but then the Mage mumbled something into his chest. Apparently she could tell that she hadn't been audible, because she pulled back far enough to look up at him. "I'm glad you're not dead. I would have missed you."

He truly hated how blasted fragile humans were. Exhaustion hollowed cheeks and only faintly luminescent eyes made her look... not weak, never weak, but oh so breakable.

He was, after all, an expert in breaking humans.

Virbane forced another smile. "I would have missed you as well. And you would most certainly have missed my wit and scintillating conversation. Now." He gave her a gentle shove – certainly nothing like what she had done to him! - towards the bed, and she limply thumped down onto the mattress. "Sleep. I'll tell you what – you rest, and I will keep watch." Smirks were much easier. "I'm good at observing things."

The Mage smiled back faintly and burrowed underneath the blankets, cocooning herself within them. In moments she was snoring again.

He watched her, for a little while. He knew it would be less painful, and much wiser, if he returned to the book, but for once he could not bring himself to do so. Instead he slowly lowered himself onto the floor, leaning back to brace himself against the door. He would know if she was waking, and it would be simple to return before she was fully conscious enough to realize - 

that he wanted to watch. He needed his own proof that she was alive, that he was not - 

"Not alone," he whispered. Virbane, Ethereal demon prince, breaker of minds, to whom sanity and souls were baubles to break and toy with, sat on the floor of an apprentice Mage's room and simply waited. He let his mind wander, through centuries and across continents, remembering companions and foes – and were they not the same thing, sometimes? - and tried to recall any time, other than the strange days in Braen, that he had felt... joy.

The smile had reappeared on his face. He had spoken truly, when he had told the Mage he did not want a quiet existence. He loved the chaos and bloodshed she left in her wake, but the companionship, the sarcasm and banter and general sniping that occurred around her, and that damned Paladin, and his very own demonspawn – it was strange how that was even better. It was more fulfilling. 

It was home, and that terrified him. He was used to the ache by now, a part of him that was purely Abyssal emotions that stabbed at him and throbbed painfully with each imaginary heartbeat. He was not driven half mad by it, as he had been when Laida had created the same emotions. He had fought it then, but he would not now. Nameless, that loss of control terrified him, though. It was far, far easier to be Virbane, wandering the world and toying with mortals, leaving any particular place before his brothers could catch wind of his location and try to do something violent and stupid.

Easier, and much less entertaining. _Much less fulfilling, though gods know I'll not say it._ He bestowed a fond, rather propriety smile upon his Mage, and dissipated. It was good to feel the shape of the pages and covers surrounding him, binding close and supporting. He had gotten used to being a book.

He stretched out his senses more than usual, extending down the hall so no one could sneak up on them. After all the Mage had done to fetch him home, watching out for her for a few hours was nothing. 

They were a team, after all. 

~end


End file.
